


Runaways

by virginianwolfsnake



Category: Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: F/M, this is the most depressing thing i think i've ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 06:16:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9587714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virginianwolfsnake/pseuds/virginianwolfsnake
Summary: Kit loves him - of course she does. But that isn't enough. Written for the Tumblr prompt: "I miss moments like this more than anything".





	

He doesn’t know yet that this is going to be the last time.

He’s placid now, calm and _real_ and so different from the way her brothers know him. She admits to herself that it’s difficult to picture the boy who used to burn ants with a magnifying glass with this tenderness in his eyes, this softness at the corners of his mouth as he smiles. This is the part of himself that he shares exclusively with her, and she can’t help but wonder if she’s worthy of that kind of investment.

“I miss moments like this more than anything,” he says, so openly, his hand seeking out hers under the quilt. He traces a circle around the knuckle of her thumb with his fingertip, before drawing her hand in close to press against his chest.

She wants to respond, but for once in her life she doesn’t know how. All the words stick in her throat, bitterly, like horseradish apples or the taste the knowledge of his villainous actions left in her mouth for days after her discovery. She shifts closer, and tucks her head underneath his chin, the way she did when they were only children. It still feels as safe as it did the first time – but now the irony tinges it, in the back of her mind. Could she be any less safe than she is here?

She wants to say that she misses these moments too. She remembers the days of reading each others minds, making jokes with just one glance, hearts hammering in chests in dark alleyways, rain on hot cheeks. She misses the adrenaline, she misses the spark of fire in his eyes. She misses the littlest things, the play fights, the language they developed that nobody else really understood, the way he kissed the nape of her neck as she woke up every morning. She misses the gentle hands that brushed away her tears and the furrowed brow that told her he _cared_ , he just didn’t know how to say so. She’s too young to know if it was rare while it lasted, or if it’s just how everyone feels when they’re in love. She thinks she’ll have to find that out later.

She wants to say that it’s his fault that those moments are gone now. She wants to say that if it was up to her, they’d have stayed that way forever. She wants to be angry, wants to say that she’s stayed the same and _he’s_ the one that’s changed, that he’s the one who lied.

“I know,” she manages eventually, in a choked whisper.

Perhaps he mistakes the tightness in her voice for tiredness, because he doesn’t seek out her eyes like he always tries to when he can feel that she’s in pain. He tangles his fingers in the ends of her dark blonde hair, and gently twirls one strand around and around his index finger.

“We could just go,” he wonders aloud. The optimism in his voice stings her, burns along her skin like the fires he sets. “We could go away somewhere and have moments like this all the time. Seville, maybe. You said that was where you’d choose.”

Who would’ve thought the man who only ever thinks about himself would be the same one who remembers the destination she randomly picked four years ago when they fantasized about running away? Two frightened, world-weary almost-adults who had never forgotten the time that they’d never been allowed to be children. These are the things about him that nobody would believe, if she were to tell them. These are the things that only she knows.

“You said you wouldn’t be able to bear the summers,” she whispers, closing her eyes to make sure that the tears she’s blinking back don’t fall. “You wanted Warsaw.”

She feels his shoulders twitch as he chuckles. His hand releases hers and slides along her wrist and up across her forearm, coming to rest with his thumb drawing circles over the sensitive skin at the inside of her elbow.

“I didn’t really mind, Snicket,” he admits, softly. “I wouldn’t mind. Anywhere in the world, for you.”

It’s almost as comforting a fantasy as it was years ago. They’ve been runaways all their lives anyway, it wouldn’t be much different to run away again – but this time just together, a whole new life, a place where nobody would know them. She could learn Spanish, and of course he never would, but she’d manage to drill a few words into him over the years. They would get by.

But the important part is the _almost_. She knows now that it’ll never be the way she imagined. As much as she wants to hold onto the dream, she knows that she could never trust enough to allow it to come true. Would she always wonder what he was up to when they were apart?

When she doesn’t respond, he gently squeezes the inside of her arm to check whether she’s still awake.

“Snicket?” he asks, voice lowered to a gentle whisper.

She deepens her breathing just a touch, and relaxes as much as she can into his shoulder. He goes still, in the selfless way nobody else would ever think him able to, not wishing to disturb her. He moves his head ever so slowly, minutely, and shifts his arm slowly to grasp the quilt, twitching it up around her shoulders to make sure that she’s covered.

She swallows down the sob building in her throat, and keeps her breathing even. The pain subsides the longer she focuses on pretending to be asleep, the feeling of the knife twisting in her sternum fading away gradually, until, twenty minutes later, he ever-so-gently pulls her closer.

“Love you,” he murmurs, words bleeding into one another sleepily, and she can hear the smile on his lips. The pain blossoms in her chest again, and she has to bite her lip to keep herself from speaking, or sobbing.

 _I love you_ , she wants to say. _I love you, I love you._ _Of course I do_. But, in the morning, she’ll show him that it isn’t enough.


End file.
